Skyrim: A Soldier's Tale
by Echo is writin' stuff
Summary: Military disaster has struck the world, wold war three is in full force, in the midst of this, an allied spec ops team is sent to investigate a new form of matter bomb, the bomb is really powerful matter transporter, and the team its first unwilling test subjects. they are transported to a new world, Skyrim. the sole survivor is American Spec ops marine Nicholi. Rated M for lang.
1. Chapter 1: Sht hits the fan

**so the beginning of this starts out in our world, in the year 2031, the world has descended into total war, and sets up quite a bit of chaos for the later story, but i can promise you it is a story about Skyrim, also most of the holes/ gaping chasms/ supper-massive black-holes in the story will eventually be filled in.**

The Korean Peninsula stretched out below him, the rolling hills seemed peaceful, serene. He snorted, if only that was the truth, North Korea had declared war on the United States and her allies, South Korea hadn't even been able to put up a fight, Seoul had disappeared in a nuclear inferno, South Korea had surrendered within an hour. Seven more nuclear weapons had been detonated on United States soil, one had burned Maui to a crisp, taking Pearl Harbor and the pacific fleet with it. San Fran, San Diego, Los Angeles, Portland, Seattle and Area 51 (the experimental aircraft facility), had bought it too. Only one of those had been a North Korean nuke, the others were all Chinese, the United States had responded with their own arsenal, and in a matter of hours over one billion casualties had mounted on both sides. Now Nicholi and his team were being sent into a North Korean research facility to capture plans for a new super-weapon.

Nicholi was tall, with blue eyes and a light brown crew cut, in his elite fatigues he seemed almost handsome, if it wasn't for the arsenal strapped to his back, a M416 assault rifle, a semi-auto DMR (designated marksman rifle), a suppressed pistol and auto pistol, smoke and frag grenades, and a KA-BAR combat knife. To top it off he also had a full medical kit and light mortar with him. The rest off his 12 man squad was armed similarly, assault rifles, LMGs, carbines, a SMAW rocket launcher, and twelve duffle bags of ammunition for them to use up. His squad was the best of the best, drawn from all around the US and its allies, Canadian special forces, Israeli commandos, British SAS, Navy Seals, Coast Guard Salamanders, Army rangers, Air Force spec ops, and elite Marines made up this special team. The twelve finest killing machines the free world had to offer were about to be air dropped into North Korea to steal the most powerful weapon ever conceived and prevent Korea from deploying it.

Blasting their way into the compound had been easy, the guards had never seen them coming, navigating the the halls had not been such a simple task. The winding corridors had gone on seemingly forever until finally the twelve of them came to what looked like the main testing chamber.

"We'll set up the radio beacon and sensors here," Nicholi said, dropping his bag of ammo onto the floor. "We can tag off in pairs, everyone look for what they might be hiding around here."

Suddenly the doors slammed shut with a bang, a heavily accented voice came on over a loudspeaker system, "this, my friends is a matter teleporter, and you are about to be its first test subjects." The machine around them hummed to life, a tingling sensation spread throughout his body and the world disappeared in a flash of light.

It was the adrenaline shot in his medkit that saved him, being teleported was excruciatingly painful and brutal to the brain and heart. Ignoring the burning pain in his mind and heart, he managed to grab the adrenaline injector out of his medical kit and thrust it into his leg. The burning in his mind collided with the rush of adrenaline, he threw up, choking and gasping on his own bile, and the world spun into blackness around him.

When he woke up it was night, the moons shining bright above him, "what the fuck?" He muttered. Hallucinations, it's from the adrenaline shot and teleporter, it's only a hallucination. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, get a grip Nicholi, get a grip. Assess your surroundings, where are you? He was in a forest, the tall pines of what he would later know as the Falkreath Hold rose a about him. The rest of his squad was dead, they hadn't had the adrenaline shot that had saved his life. I need to know what I have to work with. He dragged the bodies of his former squad mates into a line, the eleven of them would need a proper burial at some point but not now. He went through each persons equipment, pistols, assault rifles, DMRs, carbines, PDWs, a LMG, a SMAW rocket launcher, his mortar, the twelve duffle bags of ammunition, and field rations for two months per person. Luckily, all the assault rifles used the same NATO ammunition and all the pistols were 9mm for the most part. Now all I need is a place to stash them. Looking around he saw a nearby building, about three hundred meters away, that looks good.

he sprinted down the hill to the building, no one at the door, the house was a medieval, germo-nordic style. Pine beams, stacked stone and white clay walls, and a thatched roof made up the small cottage. Carved into the wood door was an ancient Icelandic script. any normal person wouldn't have even recognized it, Nicholi wasn't any normal person. He had been orphaned at age ten, his "uncle" had been part of the CIA, so he had grown up learning to kill, to speak dozens of languages, including a similar dialect of Icelandic. He had been part of the first successful human augmentation experiment, enhanced night and peripheral vision, increased pain tolerance, extreme muscle endurance and efficiency, and superhuman reaction time and reflexes. The augmentations had also made his brain more efficient, now capable of using 11% of the brain's capacity versus the 4%-5% that most people had. This had allowed him to learn twenty-seven languages in ten years, he could speak each one almost perfectly, with only a faint accent. He knew Latin, Greek, Icelandic, Finnish, Swedish, Italian, German, French, Austrian, Slavic dialects, Russian, Chinese, Korean, Nahuatl, Spanish, Vietnamese, Swahili, Hindi, Japanese, Arabic, Hebrew, five Native American dialects, and Klingon.

Pinewatch, he opened the door, no one inside on the first floor, but he heard voices from below him. He picked up on a few words, dagger, gold, trade, raid, kill, murder, empire, these were bandits, raiders, outlaws, I still need to find out where I am, they live for now.

He called out in Icelandic, "greetings, I am lost, can you help me find my home?" It was far too formal, and the dialects were not quite the same, but the message got across. Three men came running up the stairs from the cellar, they were wearing fur armor, one had a sword strapped to his hip, another had two crude iron axes, the last had a battleax strapped to his back. A fucking battleax! These were barbarians, not common outlaws. I'm not in Iceland after all.

The barbarian with the battleax said, "you picked a bad time to get lost friend."

Nicholi held out his hands in a show of peace, "I come in peace, I do not want to fight, I need help." "can you help me find town?"

"We help, for a price, or kill y-," battleax growled.

"What is (the) price?"

They laughed,"five hundred septims."

"I have no septims, none at all." Nicholi said. Must be local currency

"Then you die."

Nicholi sighed, pulling out his auto pistol he flipped it to single shot, BANG! He fired a round into the ceiling, "where is the nearest town?"

The bandits were freaking out now, they acted like they had never even seen a gun before. Maybe they hadn't, whatever their thoughts, they did the obvious, they tried to kill the threat. Battleax charged Nicholi, BANG! BANG! BANG! Nicholi fired a three round burst into his face. Battleaxe's head exploded. The swordsman was already charging Nicholi, he drew his KA-BAR knife and thrust it into the bandit's heart, the pistol aligned with his head, he cut him down in a chattering burst of flame. The last bandit was on the ground cowering.

"No, no kill, please."

Nicholi lowered his pistol and looked around the cottage. There was a map on the table, he turned around to look at it, "go." He snarled at the bandit, "forest, now." Instead of leaving, the bandit rushed Nicholi, bringing his war ax in an arc towards his side. Nicholi turned around and grabbed the bandit's arm, the crunch of bone was drowned out by the shriek of pain from the bandit. BANG! He finished him off.

Nicholi turned his attention back to the map, skyrim, he definitely wasn't in Iceland, or anywhere else on earth apparently. He rolled the map up and put it in his pack, he sifted through the bodies and grabbed what gold he could off of them. Might be useful later. He grabbed a blanket off the bed in the cellar, and left the cottage.

After he got back to his site, he found a small cave with a narrow entrance, he stashed everything but his suppressed pistol and KA-BAR knife in the cave and camouflaged the entrance. The next day was spent digging eleven graves for the other members of his squad. Most had died from heart failure or a stroke, but a few had died from cognitive shutdown. He marked each of their graves with a wooden cross.

"Rest in peace my fellow brothers in arms."

About a week later Nicholi had been studying the books he had found in the cottage learning the language, it was very similar to the Icelandic dialect he knew, but the grammar, pronunciation, and vocabulary were all different enough to make it as learning a whole new language. So he had spent the last week of his life sitting in a cave studying the language from three books, Thief, Mixed Unit Tactics, and the full volume of The Lusty Argonian Maid.

Nicholi studied the map, walking through the forest, the nearest town was a small town called Helgen, he dropped down a small rock face, not really paying attention. He dropped right into what appeared to be a roman military camp, "Am I in fucking Rome." The soldiers were shouting and running towards him. Are they friendly or hostile? his answer was a pommel swipe to the back of the head.


	2. Chapter 2: Helgen

Chapter two:Helgen

"Hey, you awake now?" Nicholi heard the slow deliberate speech invade the blackness of his mind. He looked around, he was in a cart with five other prisoners, two were strong blonde nords, one with a gag over his mouth, the other looked at him expectantly. The man next to him was Nordic like the other two, only he had dark hair and wasn't wearing the blue cloth and scale armor. Next to him was a nord woman, about twenty, she wasn't in the armor either, but she did have a swirl of warpaint on her left cheek. And next to her was a cat man, an honest to god bipedal cat man.

"Holy shit! What the fuck is that thing?" Nicholi jerked back in surprise, shouting in English.

The cat man frowned, "Never seen a khajiit before?"

The nord woman grinned, "I think the cat's got his tongue."

Nicholi replied in a much more controlled demeanor, in the native language, "apologies, I not from this skyrim, I from different skyrim." He fumbled for the proper vocabulary.

"I think he means continent, he doesn't seem to have much of a grasp on our language." The cat said.

"Yes," Nicholi said, his mind trying desperately to find the right language in his cluttered brain, "I sorry I no good with language, learned it from books, not people. How did you get prison? Why I get prison?"

The cat spoke first, "it's a long story..."

The blonde nord man snorted, "let me guess, you stole something."

"Ralof," the nord woman rolled her eyes, "don't be a racist dick."

The dark haired man growled, "it's you two and the rest of those damned Stormcloaks that got all of us into this mess. You started this war and threw skyrim into chaos! If it wasn't for you I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

"That's Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king of skyrim you're talking to horse thief," Ralof shot back, "you best watch your mouth."

He paled, "shit, where are they taking us?"

The woman sighed, "to think, I was just visiting friends in The Rift. Now I'm going to be executed with rebels."

The cat muttered, "how did you get here then?"

"I was arrested for 'poaching'"

"Ah, the old 'poaching' excuse," the cat chuckled, "nice."

"Shut up furball."

"It's Mari'Jal, not furball, and your name?" The cat grinned, baring his fangs.

"Yarlasa, and you?" She said, turning to Nicholi.

"Nicholi," he said, "and I still have trick up my sleeve."

Mari'Jal said thoughtfully, "they didn't disarm you, did they?"

"Nope,"

One of the Romanesque soldiers shouted, "quiet back there!"

"Hadvar," Mari'Jal shouted back, "you know that Altmer was lying! I paid double for that potion and you know it."

"I know Mari," Hadvar said, "but I don't have the authority to free you."

"You know the imperials?" Ralof asked.

"I was an imperial soldier, I was framed by the Thalmor for stealing a cure disease potion."

"I knew it!" Ralof grinned, "thief!"

"I was buying that potion to cure my sister," Mari'Jal snarled, "she contracted vampirism, and I was trying to save her life. That filthy Altmer merchant wouldn't sell his goods to a lowly 'thieving' Khajiit, so I took the potion and left him double the cost he was charging, six months pay for a legionnaire. He pocketed the money and had me arrested, he even smashed the potion before I could get it to my sister."

How long ago did your sister contract vampirism?" Yarlasa asked.

"Four days ago."

"Then it's too late."

Mari'Jal shook his head, "I've never been one for murder, but if I get out, the first thing I'm gonna do is kill that godsdamn Altmer bastard."

"We're getting close to Helgen, end of the line I bet." Ralof said.

"I'm not a rebel," the dark haired man panicked, "I've got to get out of here."

"Bide your time thief," Ralof muttered, "bide your time."

Mari' Jal was chewing on his leather bonds, "I'm almost through my bonds."

"I have a knife hidden up sleeve." Nicholi whispered, "we cut bonds with."

"That's it?" Yarlasa sighed, "a knife?"

"I also have pistol."

"What's a pistol?" Mari'Jal asked.

"A weapon kills quietly, efficiently."

"We can quietly kill a few imperials before we get beheaded." Ralof said dryly, "I can't wait."

"We appear to be Helgen." Nicholi announced, looking around he saw the chopping block, "oh joy, public murder, me favorite."

"Your grammar is atrocious." The horse thief muttered, "and the term is execution, not murder."

"I pick this up in less week." Nicholi grunted, "gimme break."

Hadvar shouted back into the cart, "everyone out!"

"I'm not a rebel!" The dark haired nord shouted, "you're not killing me!" He bolted for the gate. A imperial officer shouted for archers, and he was cut down, Yarlasa gaged.

"Name!" The officer barked.

"Nicholi."

"Hometown!"

"You wouldn't know." The imperial officer slammed an armored fist into his gut.

"Don't give me any bullshit," she snarled, "Next, name!"

"Yarlasa."

"Hometown."

"Winterhold."

"Next, name."

"You know that Claudia." Mari'jal looked her in the eye.

"Name." She said, never breaking her gaze.

"Mari'Jal"

"Hometown,"

"Falkreath."

"Next, name."

"Ralof."

"Hometown."

"Riverwood."

"Prisoners to the block." Claudia shouted.

One of the other Stormcloaks stepped up, "let's get this over with, I don't have all morning."

, Thwack! His head rolled off and into the basket. Blood spurted onto the cobble road, Yarlasa vomited. The officer pointed to Nicholi. He stepped up to the block, Mari' Jal had just managed to cut his bonds. Show time Nicholi, show time. A massive roar echoed throughout the valley, everyone stopped for a second.

"What was that?" One of the imperials asked.

"It was nothing, continue," a man in generals armor said.

The officer pushed him up to the block, the ax head raised above his neck, barbaric, Nicholi thought. The ax came down, Nicholi's hand shot out and struck the headsman's knee, he gasped in pain, Nicholi handspringed to his feet, kicking the man in the side of the head. The Stormcloaks cheered, Nicholi began to sprint down the road. He heard the whistle of arrows coming at him, he twisted in mid air, dodging them. Then the lightning hit him.

Mari'Jal watched Nicholi get hit by the lightning bolt, he hadn't even tried to dodge it. Guess he didn't see it coming. Then he looked up in the sky, "What. The. Fuck?"

"What in oblivion is that?" Someone screamed.

"Dragon!"

"Run!"

Mari' Jal sprinted across the town square to Nicholi,"get up!" He shouted, "come on!"

"That's a fucking dragon!" Nicholi gasped, his mouth tasted like foil burning, "she just shot lightning like emperor Palpatine and that's a fucking dragon like dungeons and fucking dragons!"

They made it to the tower where Ralof and Hadvar were motioning for people to get to. The rest of the prisoners were in the tower as well, all of them were spoked. Nicholi sat down and sucked in deep breaths while hugging his chest.

"You ok." Yarlasa asked, she didn't look much better herself.

"No I am not ok." Nicholi gasped, switching in and out of English, "that lady just broke the laws of physics by shooting fucking lightning and there's a storybook monster flying around fucking incinerating people. So no, I'm not ok!"

"We're all freaked by the dragon Nicholi." Ralof said, "we all thought dragons were legends."

A slab of stone fell in front of the door, "oh joy," Nicholi muttered, "now we trapped in a giant oven."

"You are the king of sarcasm Nicholi," Mari'Jal grinned, "when we get out of this I'm gonna give you a sweetroll."

The five of them ran up to one of the recently formed holes in the tower and jumped. Outside the town was chaos, soldiers shot arrows and magic at the dragon, the dragon shouted back, "YOL!"

Ralof, Ulfric, and Yarlasa ran one way, Mari'Jal and Nicholi ran the other way.

"Hadvar!" Mari'Jal shouted, "we'll join in on the defense."

"Just get out of here, we have this." He shouted back.

Mari'Jal picked up a bow from a fallen imperial and began shooting at the dragon, "aim for the eyes!"

Nicholi drew his pistol, eighteen shots, the foreign sound of a suppressed pistol rang out. Crack! Crack! Crack! The three rounds struck the beast in the eye. YOL! The fireball slammed into the house behind them.

"The keep!" Hadvar shouted, "the keep!"

Nicholi, Mari'Jal, and Hadvar ran for the keep, the dragon saw them and turned on them, un damaged eye filled with hatred, intelligent hatred. Nicholi turned the laser sight on his pistol on, shining it into the beast' eye, Crack! Crack! Crack! FUS RO DAH!

Nicholi bounced backwards like a rag doll, "ow, that hurt." Nicholi groaned, "there goes physics. It just got eaten by a dragon."

"Let's get inside the keep bad grammar man," Mari'Jal said.

"Yessir furball."

"I'm staying out here to guide civilians to safety," Hadvar said, "I'll meet you in Riverwood if I make it out."

"Good luck."

"Talos guide you."

The Helgen keep was small and utilitarian, bare stone floor and walls, heavy wooden doors, minimal torch lighting. Mari'Jal was going through personal chests in the barracks, grabbing armor, weapons, and gold. He passed up the heavy metal armor and instead grabbed the studded leather coat and bracers.

"You want any armor?" He asked, "might be better than what you're wearing."

"This Nanoweave Kevlar." The English words sounded foreign to Mari'Jal, but he realized that there was no equivalent in his language, "light, strong."

"There's an escape tunnel we can use to leave without going outside to the dragon."

Nicholi nodded, "we move? Now."

"Yes"

The two of them took off down the hallway, Mari' Jal wielding a imperial sword in each hand, Nicholi holding his suppressed pistol. Two Stormcloaks were up ahead, Mari'Jal called out to them, sheathing his weapons.

"There's another damned imperial," one of them snarled, "I'm gonna enjoy killing you." He swung his warhammer at Mari'Jal, Crack!, the foreign sound of a suppressed round firing rang out, the Stormcloak slumped to the ground, Mari'Jal drew his blades and hacked the other one down.

"Eleven left," Nicholi said.

"Eleven what?" Nicholi pointed to his pistol, "ah."

They continued through the dungeon, it was fairly event someone had been through before them, there wasn't much left in terms of equipment or food. Further on they found the bodies of two Stormcloaks and a imperial, the imperial was unarmed other than an arrow in his heart and the Stormcloaks were scorched by magic. The dungeon soon opened up into a natural cave, a wooden bridge marked where the cave started and the dungeon ended.

"Stop." Nicholi whispered, "listen," both of them stopped for a second, they could hear heavy breathing echoing from around the cave. "Quietly, we cross bridge."

Mari'Jal nodded, "we let them live if they don't attack us, understood?"

"Yes"

Nicholi and Mari'Jal began walking across the bridge, the rotted planks creaked and groaned under the stress of their footsteps. The bridge gave out beneath them and the both plunged ten feet to the ground below them. Hugging the wall were the two people they had heard, Ralof and Yarlasa. Ralof drew his ax and sword, Mari'Jal pulled out both of his swords.

"Can we not kill more people Ralof?" Yarlasa asked, "it's not necessary."

"That sound good." Nicholi said, "we no fight, I not want to kill all of you."

"Your grammar still hasn't improved," Ralof muttered.

"Let's just all get to Riverwood in one piece," Mari'Jal snapped, "there's no need to nitpick over the grammar of others."

The walk to Riverwood was fairly uneventful, it was a few miles through spring forest, Ralof pointed out the guardian stones and Mari'Jal and Nicholi both took the thief stone blessing, Yarlasa took the Mage stone blessing. Ralof started on another khajiit remark, but Yarlasa shot him a look that said "don't even think about it".

"Alvor?" Mari'Jal called, "hello?"

A massive man working at the local forge turned around, "Mari'Jal, it's good to see you, and Ralof? What are you doing so far in imperial territory?"

"It's a long story, I'm going to go find Gurdur and Hod, I'll probably head back to Windhelm soon."

"Alright, but you might want to ditch that Stormcloak uniform for something more inconspicuous." Alvor turned back to Mari'Jal, "where's Hadvar?"

"That's what we're here about, the three of us are alive because of him." Mari'Jal said, "there was a dragon at Helgen, burned the whole place to the ground. He stayed behind to help get civilians out. I was hoping he had made it back to Riverwood already."

Alvie sighed, "that's my nephew, always putting others before himself. But a dragon you say, you need to warn the jarl about that. Maybe he can send some guards to help us stay safe."

"Can we use the forge and grab some better equipment?" Mari'Jal asked, "it's a long journey to Whiterun and we aren't very well geared up."

"Sure," Alvor said, eyebrows knit in thought, "it might be faster to go over the mountain or, if you're crazy enough, the barrow probably goes right through the mountain."

Turning back to Nicholi and Yarlasa, "I can't make anything too complicated on our time budget, but I can make us some new armor and temper everyone's weapons, it's better than nothing after all."

"Light armor please," Yarlasa said, "I'm not going back to Winterhold alone, and I'm not strong enough to wear heavy armor."

"Bah, heavy armor is loud and clunky, don't even bother with it." Mari'Jal muttered, "nords and their steel..."

Asking Mari'Jal and Alvor and motioning to a cart across the road, "can I use that cart over there?" Nicholi said, "I got some equipment I want to haul."

"You can," Alvor said, "but you're not going to like how much the Riverwood trader charges."

"Ugh, never mind."

"Not worth the gold eh?"

"Not a septim to my name." Nicholi grinned, "but my grammar getting better?"

"Not by much." Yarlasa said, "I'm gonna go see if I can get some work done, earn some coin."

"I'll get us some armor. You want some Nicholi?" Mari'Jal asked.

"Nah, I good."

"I'm" Yarlasa corrected. "It's I'm"

"I'm going to go get some of my gear, I'll be back by sundown."

Nicholi walked back to the cave, no one had touched it. He grabbed his M416 and auto pistol, reloaded his suppressed one, and grabbed five pistol clips and nine M416 clips, 270 rounds. He paused and almost as an afterthought grabbed a DMR and 200 rounds of ammunition. He picked up four anti-armor concussion grenades and four frag grenades then left the cave. Walking back to Riverwood was uneventful, the occasional deer, but nothing that would be un-earth like. To bad normality had been shocked by magic and incinerated by a dragon.


	3. Chapter 3: Dungeon and Dragonborn

Chapter 3: Dungeon and Dragonborn

"Nicholi! Charlie company! USMC! id 133759!"

"Why are you here." An Arabic accented voice snarled, "who sent you?"

Nicholi fought to clear his head, "Nicholi! Charlie company! USMC! id 133759!" he screamed again. The electricity coursed through his body. "Nicholi! Charlie company! USMC! id 133759!"

"Let us try this again, no?"

The electricity roared in his mind again, but the pain would grow no worse, the answers came no closer to escaping. He was on autopilot, give them the same answer, "Nicholi! Charlie company! USMC! id 133759!"

"Give us what we want to know," the man said slowly, "or we begin removing your fingers."

"Go to hell you sonuvabitch." Nicholi spat in his face.

"You're already there y-" **_Crack!_**The sound of a suppressed pistol cut him off, blood and brain matter splattered over him. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles were unlocked.

"Get up." A voice cut through the haze in his mind, _perfect Englis_h. "C'mon, get up! We don't have much time."

"Computers," Nicholi whispered hoarsely, "computers. Did you get the drive I hooked up to the computers?"

"Not yet." The voice said, "now get up. That is an order."

"Yessir." Nicholi sat up.

"Yes ma'am to you." The voice said.

"Nicholi, United States Spec. Ops. Commando 133795." He recited. "Thank you."

"Sara Chen, Canadian special forces. "You owe me a drink."

Nicholi snapped awake. He was in skyrim, but the memories of Afghanistan had managed to travel with him. Nicholi was technically a CIA operative, but had served in special forces units from all branches of the military. For that disaster of a mission he had been sent to the compound in Afghanistan to retrieve information on an Al Qaeda shipment of pocket nukes. He made it to their computers and managed to place a terabyte drive in their system, but he had been caught waiting for it to download. Sara had been sent to do the same job as him and had found him. Together they had finished the mission and hitched a ride home with a Canadian transport helicopter. That had ended his two year tour of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq, with that information America had captured the pocket nukes and and found several Al Qaeda operatives. That had been six months ago, before he had been sent here.

"You ok Nicholi?" He heard Mari'Jal ask, "you looked like you were having a nightmare."

"I'm fine," he said slowly, carefully, "just an old war memory."

"How long have you been a soldier?"

"Fifteen years."

"Nine years myself," Mari'Jal said, " since I was eighteen. When did you join?"

"Ten, my parents died and the CIA raised me."

"CIA?" Mari' Jal asked.

"Central Intelligence Agency." Nicholi sighed. "Spies. Assassins."

Yarlasa poked her head into the room, "you two ready to go to Whiterun?"

Mari'Jal nodded, "were gonna go through the barrow, right?"

Nicholi grabbed his pack, entrenchment tool, sleeping roll, blanket, Ammunition, DMR, M416, two pistols, eight grenades, his med kit, MRE rations, and a light demolition charge.

"Ready."

"That's a lot of stuff, you need help?" Mari'Jal asked.

"Nah, I'm good."

Nicholi let Mari'Jal walk away confused, better he didn't say anything about his childhood, it was more complex than most adult lives. he had been orphaned at ten years old, and his "uncle" had adopted him. This uncle, who he had never even met before, took him to a strange facility where he lived with over a hundred other children between the ages of six and twelve with similar stories, their parents had died of disease, cancer, accidents, or unexplainable circumstances. Their "uncle", "aunt", "godparent", or "family friend" had taken them here. The people the told them what had really happened, the government was creating super soldiers and the one hundred and sixty three children had been selected for genetic augmentation because of exceptional genetic qualities hidden within each child. They gave the children no time to adjust to their new home, or the fact that their parents had been killed by the people who now held them captive. The augmentation process took three months, bone grafts, eye enhancements, muscle modifications, brain surgery, mental conditioning, and dehumanization all took place. Never once did the children see the face of one of the doctors, or of one of the guards, or of one of the people in charge.

Of the one hundred and sixty three children selected, ninety six survived the augmentation process without crippling injuries. The brutal mental and physical combat and survival training that took place over the next three years eliminated another twenty two by physical injuries, seventeen by suicide on live fire ranges, and fourteen simply went insane. The other forty three children were deemed ready for the next stage, learning languages, history, and medical skills at a doctorate level. Nicholi finished this when he was sixteen and went through marine training, army rangers training, and navy seal training for advanced combat situations, he finished this when he was eighteen, and shipped out on his first mission. After nine years of service World War Three had kicked off and here he was, in Skyrim, forever.

As they hiked up the mountain to Bleak Falls Barrow, Mari'Jal and Yarlasa talked about Tamriel, the continent that Skyrim was on. They told of its history and wars, of creatures and races of elves men and beast. The talked of the Stormcloak rebellion, Mari'Jal staunchly supported the empire, despite them attempting to behead everyone. Yarlasa supported the rebellion. Nicholi told them about what he did, espionage, combat, Spec. Ops. He told them about the matter teleporter and the war, North Korea, how a seventh of the world had died in a matter of hours. They were shocked at how powerful his world's weapons were, but even more shocked at how many people had died.

"A billion people," Yarlasa breathed, "all lost in the blink of an eye."

"Hold up," Mari'Jal hissed, motioning to a old tower up ahead, "bandits. I got this." He drew his bow."

Nicholi reacted faster. He pulled out his DMR and raised it to his shoulder. _**Bang!**_ The single shot rang out, the thirty caliber bullet caught the bandit in the cheek, just below the eye. His head exploded. The other two bandits at the doorway to the tower turned to the noise, shock giving way to anger. The second bandit never had time to finish his thought. **_Bang!_** Nicholi's second shot struck square between the eyes. The third one raised his shield. **_Bang!_** The shot went clean through the shield to the bandit's face. A bandit looked over the edge of the tower to see what was going on, Mari'Jal put an arrow in his throat. **_Bang!_** Nicholi hit him in the temple as he fell from the top of the tower.

"Shit man, he's dead."

"Just making sure."

They moved on from the tower, up ahead the ruins went from fallen stone blocks to stone arches and stairways.

"those bandits up there," Mari'Jal whispered, "I got this, Nicholi give me cover."

Nicholi nodded, Mari'Jal drew his twin imperial blades and charged up the stairs. The first bandit never saw Mari'Jal coming, he slammed into the nord and cut her down with a slash from each sword. The two other bandits saw her go down, shouting and whooping, they advanced on Mari'Jal. He sidestepped the first blow and jabbed his left sword into the second bandit. Bang! The other bandit slumped to the ground.

"Let's move," Nicholi said, "and nice swordplay Mari'jal."

"Thanks, and call me Mari."

Mari opened the door into Bleak Falls Barrow, Nicholi let Mari drop the two bandits at the entrance to the catacombs. As far as architecture went, it wasn't much, stone walls and pillars made from a native limestone. Resting places for mummified bodies were carved into the walls.

"If these are where the dead are supposed to be," Yarlasa wondered, "where are they?"

"That's a good question."

"Look this one," Nicholi whispered, "still here."

"At." Yarlasa corrected. "Look at this one."

The eyes suddenly glowed blue, a hand twitched and raised up, Yarlasa shrieked and leaped back. The thing moved, rising to its feet, it looked around for a moment, Yarlasa was in backed against the wall hyperventilating. Nicholi and Mari didn't move, the reanimated body picked up an ancient battleax, metal scraping against stone. Nicholi reacted first, drawing his auto pistol, the weapon chattered, then clicked as the last bullet fired. The reanimated body raised the ax above its head, the twenty holes in its center body mass didn't really seem to bother it. The sound of another clip loading rang out, followed by a burst of lightning hitting the thing in the side of the head. It slumped to the ground, Yarlasa was standing behind it, energy crackling at her fingertips.

"What the fuck was that thing?" Mari asked to no one in particular.

"Draugr." Yarlasa gasped, "those things are draugr, I didn't think they were real, just stories to scare children away from the old crypts."

"Let's keep moving." Nicholi muttered, half to himself, "why didn't I grab a shotgun?"

He looked around for a moment, then wrenched a torch off the wall. Another draugr was waking up, Nicholi pulled out his suppressed pistol and put a round in its brain. The draugr slumped to the ground.

"shotgun?" Yarlasa asked, "What's an shotgun?"

"A shotgun shoots several small pellets instead of one bullet,they're good for close quarters." Nicholi lit the torch,"come on." He motioned.

The trio continued deeper into the ruins, Nicholi or Mari putting down any draugr that woke up. Nicholi's torch soon sputtered and died, but Yarlasa knew the magelight and candlelight spells. As Nicholi and Yarlasa forged ahead, Mari would fall behind for a moment, then run to catch up. The sound of jewelry and coins jingling in his pocket was fairly audible.

"Are you grave robbing?" Yarlasa's shock was evident in her voice.

"I prefer the term 'acquiring fine jewels and coin through legitimate means." Mari replied, "and besides, it's not stealing if the owner's been dead for a few thousand years."

"You gonna share furball?" Nicholi grinned.

"You're taking his side in this?!" Yarlasa gasped. "What's wrong with you!"

"I'm broke too."

"In case you haven't noticed, my employer attempted to behead me," Mari gestured with his hands(paws?), "so I seriously doubt I'm getting my pay at the end of the week."

"And I'm sure no one accepts American Express here, or credit in general." Nicholi added.

"You two are worse than Onmund and J'zargo at a khajiit caravan." Yarlasa muttered.

Behind them the sound of draugr waking up began to fill the tunnel, one, then two, then ten draugr shambled out of the darkness. The sickly blue glow of more draugr's eyes radiated behind them.

"Do you think we can take 'em." Mari whispered.

Nicholi unslung his M416, "I doubt it, let's just bug the fuck out of here. Yarlasa, you take point, I'll take the middle, Mari, you cover the rear."

Yarlasa nodded and launched a magelight bolt down the hallway, illuminating more draugr. Nicholi sprinted down after it, the M416 crackled as he put rounds into each draugr's head. Yarlasa moved ahead, fire burning in her hands. Behind them Mari hacked apart the first few draugr, one knocked his blades from his hands. He sprinted back towards Nicholi and Yarlasa, picking up two swords from fallen draugr. The chatter of the assault rifle rang out again, and more of the pursuing hoard fell. The three of them continued to fight their way through the catacombs until they came to several massive blades swinging across the hallway.

"Well, we're dead," Yarlasa muttered, "there are at least one hundred draugr behind us, and a messy death ahead of us."

Nicholi simply stared at the blades, watching them swing across the hall.

"A little help!" Mari yelped. Yarlasa joined him in hurling fireballs and arrows down the corridor at the approaching draugr. Nicholi grabbed a rock and jammed it into the slot one of the blades was coming out of. The blade slammed into the rock and stopped, the other two blades did the same.

"Let's move!" He shouted, he ran into the next room, a draugr rose out of its coffin. Nicholi didn't even shoot it, he simply pulled out his knife and stabbed it into the head of the first draugr.

"Duck!" Yarlasa screamed. An arrow slammed into Nicholi's shoulder. as good as modern battle armor was, it was designed to stop high powered rounds, which were small and high velocity, however, the designers never intended it to stop a large, heavy, broadhead arrow at point blank range. Nicholi drew his auto-pistol and fired a burst at the draugr that had hit him. The bullets missed the head, but one struck the draugr in the arm, the draugr staggered and dropped its bow. Mari's arrow struck it in the head.

"How bad is it?" Mari asked.

Nicholi stared at the blood flowing out of his arm, "I'm fine." He gasped, in the dim torchlight, he looked sickly and pale.

"Yarlasa, give me some light." Mari'jal grunted, pushing Nicholi to the ground. Yarlasa cast a candlelight spell, in the brighter illumination Nicholi still looked pale. Mari ripped the arrow out of Nicholi's arm.

"I'm fine," Nicholi almost snarled, "let's get out of here, Now!"

Mari looked at the arrow, the wooden shaft of the arrow was tinted green, and the flesh around Nicholi's shoulder was turning the same color. "Poison," Mari muttered, "hold still, this is gonna hurt."

Mari thrust his fingers into the wound, the golden light of restoration magic danced along Nicholi's arm, but the wound didn't close, a sickly green pus flowed out for a second, as the body expelled the poison, then the muscle began to knit itself back together. Nicholi gritted his teeth in pain as the torn muscles forced themselves to heal, the sound of muscles tearing and rehealing made Yarlasa's stomach heave, so she stopped watching and went back to hurling balls of fire and lightning down the corridor, then the flesh and skin began to repair, forming into a knot of scar tissue.

"That'll hold you for now," Mari shrugged, "but we'll have to reopen the wound and heal it properly later."

"Thanks." Nicholi said shakily, "I owe you one."

The draugr were beginning to push past Yarlasa's defense, so Nicholi joined back in with his assault rifle. Mari looked around the room they were in, a greasy fluid coated the floor.

"What do ya make of this?" Nicholi turned around as he jammed another magazine in his rifle.

"Looks sorta like napalm."

"What's that," Yarlasa asked.

"Greek fire," Nicholi grinned, "it burns like crazy." Mari and Yarlasa grinned too, "Yarlasa, you're gonna have to hit it with a fireball when we book it."

The trio ran to the balcony above the pool of napalm, crouching, they let the draugr file in the room below. The draugr began looking around for any sign of their prey, growling and snarling in frustration.

"Their have to be at least fifty of them down there, Yarlasa whispered.

"Nicholi nodded, "now."

Yarlasa conjured a fireball in her hands, but Mari held out a hand, "you'll never hit it through all that, I got this." He closed his eyes and focused, a ball of darkness formed in his closed fist. He held out his hand and opened his palm, the swirling ball moved forward and began expanding, a figure formed in the middle. Seconds later a fire atronach appeared.

"Mari," the atronach crackled, "why have you summoned me?"

"Because I enjoy your company." Mari replied dryly. "No, I need your help," he motioned to the crowd of draugr below them,"there is flammable oil below them, but we don't know if we can hit it with a fireball, but you can."

She hissed, "why now? Why wait until you're cornered?"

"A third of our firepower is wounded Firsra." He motioned to Nicholi, "we didn't need help, but he can't handle his assault rifle anymore."

Firsra looked at Nicholi, "you are not from this world, no?"

"No," he looked her in the eye, "you aren't from Nirn either, are you?"

"I am a Dadra, a fire elemental from the plains of oblivion." Firsra bared her teeth, the fiery smile held no warmth, only the unsettling chaos of oblivion, "you and I aren't so different, forced into this world by powers beyond our control. But with us we bring power, our power is unmatched by -"

Mari cut her off, "Firsra, quit trying to corrupt him. It's not gonna work."

"Fine," she gave Mari a hateful look, "I will destroy them for you," turning back to Nicholi, "I give you a warning. you are attracting the attention of the Daedric princes, and most of them won't take no for an answer." The atronach turned around and floated down into the draugr, unleashing a wave of fire. The fire began to swirl into a storm, a spark struck the napalm on the chamber floor, and the room roared into an inferno. Flaming draugr were tossed around like so many dolls in a destructive child's hands. Firsra hovered in the middle of the inferno, her cackling laughter sent chills down Nicholi's spine, this was no friend of Mari, this was a barely controlled instrument of chaos, held back only by the weak bond of whatever magic was used to summon her.

Mari stood up and began jogging down the tunnel, "problem solved, no more draugr."

Yarlasa had been petrified with terror for most of the exchange," you practice conjuration?"

"Yes, I do."

Nicholi spoke up, "why? Is that a bad thing, it got us out of a tight spot back there."

"Conjuration is dangerous, summoning Daedra can lead to an untimely death." Yarlasa looked at Mari, "you don't practice necromancy, do you?"

Nicholi laughed, "necromancy! what next? The Necronomicon?

Mari looked at him blankly, "uhh... No?

"Never mind." Nicholi was still laughing to himself, "big joke from my world. It's nothing, just a silly cult."

"Like Talos?" Yarlasa punched the grin off Mari's face. "I deserved that one." He groaned, clutching his cheek.

"Yes you did."

Up ahead they heard a muffled shout. "Help! Help!"

Nicholi sprinted ahead, rounded the corner. "Holy shit!" He scrambled backwards as a massive spider dropped from the ceiling.

"Gah! Kill it! Kill it!"

The spider hissed and skittered towards Nicholi, "get back!" Yarlasa yelled and hurled a fireball at it. The spider reared on its back at the sight of the fire, but seemed relatively unharmed. Nicholi's hand closed around one of his M67 fragmentation grenades, the pin came out, the sphere arched through the air, and the spider's manabies snapped around it. Mari was notching an arrow in his bow, Yarlasa had summoned another fireball, Nicholi scrambled to his feet and grabbed both of them.

"Down!" He yelled, and dragged them both to the ground. **Boom!** The grenade detonated, turning the unfortunate spider into something that matched the consistency of chunky pistachio pudding and lime jello. Said mixture of spider spattered over the walls, the floor, and everyone.

"Oh, sick!" Mari'jal muttered.

Nicholi scrapped spider juice off of his face."Ugh, it's like a fly stain on the world."

Yarlasa didn't say anything, she simply threw up. The Dunmer caught in the webs on the other end of the room swore and spat the chunks that landed on his face away. "Nice mess you three made, now cut me down."

"Why should we?" Mari asked, "what's in it for us?"

"I know the secrets of the Nordic ruins, the claw doors, the treasure beyond. I can show you all of that." Nicholi drew out his KA-BAR knife and cut him loose. "But why should I share it with you?" The dunmer snarled and pulled out a steel dagger. He hurled it at Mari'jal, the blade buried itself in his shoulder. Nicholi pulled out the auto pistol and put a three round burst in the dunmer's kneecap.

"Yeow! Shit!" He screamed, rolling on the ground. Mari ripped the dagger out of his shoulder, the golden light of healing magic flowed out of his hands onto the wound. Nicholi put another three round burst in the Dunmer's head.

"Idiot." Nicholi muttered.

"Let's see what he was talking about with the claw doors." Mari began sifting through the dunmer's pockets and knapsack, he pulled out a golden claw and a journal. He thumbed through the journal, "the claws are the key, each one is different. You have to match up the correct claw to the correct door and get the correct combination of symbols."

"We still need a door to open."

"Well, let's find it then."

It turned out the door was only a few more minutes down the tunnel, but opening it turned out to be out of the question. Twenty minutes, two shouting matches, and one fistfight later, the door continued to stay shut. Mari was convinced he could pick the lock, Yarlasa still thought they could crack the combination, and Nicholi just wanted to blow the door up. That kicked off another shouting match.

"Bow it up!?" Yarlasa yelled, waving her hands wildly, "that's thousands years of of history!"

"And it still will be! It'll just be in thousands of tiny bits and pieces!"

"I could still just pick the lock..." Mari sighed.

"Shut Up!" Nicholi and Yarlasa yelled in unison.

"None of us have slept in days, we don't know how long we've been down here." He said calmly, "let's just get some rest."

"Mari has a point." Nicholi tossed the charge of C4 in his hand aside, "you two sleep, I'll take first watch."

"If I wake up to the sound of that exploding, I'm going to kill you." Yarlasa sat down and leaned against the wall, "wake me up in a few hours, I'll take second watch."

Mari leaned against the opposite wall and within ten minutes, both of them had nodded off.

"Mari!" Nicholi hissed, "Mari! Wake up Mari!"

"Huzz... wa?" He yawned, "is it my watch... I didn't get to sleep long."

"No." Nicholi whispered, "keep your voice down." He motioned down the corridor, " draugr. One. Maybe two."

The draugr stood at the opposite end of the room from the claw door, surveying the room. Nicholi picked up a small chunk of stone and hurled it further down the corridor. The draugr snarled and turned around to investigate the sound. Mari ran up behind it and brought down his sword on the draugr's head. Nicholi ran over to Yarlasa, who was still asleep. He cupped his hand over her mouth and shook her awake.

"Shhh, you're fine. Don't freak out."

Yarlasa stopped struggling in his hands. "What in oblivion?" She choked out from under his hands. "What's going on."

"A draugr wandered in."

Mari sprinted back in, "draugr, shitloads of draugr! Big," he panted, "armored, lots of armor."

"Yarlasa, you open that door." Nicholi barked, "Mari, you keep them away from her." He picked up the mace and shield the draugr had been wielding, "I'm gonna hold the entrance."

"What about your guns?" Yarlasa asked, "you aren't using those?"

"I'm almost out of ammo, I've got two clips left for my M416, and one for each of my pistols."

"And your rifle?"

"It's not much use in close quarters combat."

Mari focused and summoned Firsra, who cackled and began hurling fireballs down the tunnel at the encroaching draugr. Mari launched arrow after arrow into the draugr, Nicholi smashed down any that broke through the defense.

"How's that door coming along?" Mari yelled.

"Not good!" Yarlasa yelled back.

"Hurry!"

_FUS RO DAH!_ The wall of force roared down the tunnel, picking up Firsra, Nicholi, and Mari like leaves in a storm. The draugr deathlord shambled into the room, more undead followed it in. The deathlord hefted its ebony mace and shield, Nicholi ran to meet him, his own ancient nord mace swung out, struck the ebony shield, and shattered. Nicholi lept back and threw his shield like a heavy metal frisbee. Yarlasa yelled and launched a spike of solid ice at the deathlord, the spike didn't actually harm the draugr, but it distracted it long enough for Nicholi to stab his combat knife into the draugr's brain. Several draugr began casting ice spells at Firsra, the atronach launched a barrage of fire back, Yarlasa joined in.

"Nicholi, you work on the door!I'll help Mari." She tossed the claw at him. Yarlasa had always had bad luck, but this had to be the worst timing in the world. A ball of supercondense, frozen air, cast by a draugr, slammed into the golden claw as it sailed through the magical crossfire. The metal instantly dropped to -50 degrees celsius, flew against the puzzle door, and exploded into a million tiny pieces.

"O fuck!" Nicholi continued to swear in every language he knew, "I'm gonna have to blow the door open!"

Mari, who had been hacking and slashing away at the endless waves of draugr, "we don't care any more! Just do it!"

Nicholi was one step ahead of Mari, he tossed one stick of C4 down the hall into the draugr, he took the other and stuck it to the door. "Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

**BOOM! BOOM!** Crash! The hallway collapsed from the force of the concussion and the door broke apart.

When the dust settled, Mari was on the ground trying to find the fragments of gold from the claw, "All that gold! Gone!" He choked back a sob, "why cruel world? Why?"

Firsra hissed, "this is one reason why I hate him..." She waved her hand and faded from view.

"Well," Yarlasa sighed, "that sucked."

"I am so done with draugr." Nicholi grumbled under his breath, "I hope this crypt has a back entrance, or we are soooo fucked."

"Yeah, I just want to see the sun again."

Up ahead the corridor opened up into a large cavern, sunlight trickled in through the ceiling. A small stream flowed from one end of the cavern, around a set of stairs carved from the native rock, and down through a fissure in the ground. A stone wall covered in strange carvings formed a semicircle around a large chest and coffin, Mari instantly ran across the bridge to the chest, locked. He pulled out a thin blade wrapped in leather and a few lock picks.

"I guess Ralof was right." Nicholi grinned, "you are a thief!"

"I'm not a thief, I just know how to pick locks, and pickpocket, and move undetected, and where to fence stolen goods, and -"

Yarlasa cut him off, "you're not keeping all of that for yourself,I see enchanted weapons and gear in there."

Mari tossed her a necklace, "I think that's a magika enchantment. Could be helpful?"

"Magical weapons, why the hell not?" Nicholi set down his assault rifle, "what do ya' have for me?"

"Uhhh, let's see," he rummaged through the chest, "fire resist pendant? Ring of archery?"

I'll take the pendant, I doubt the ring helps with my weapons."

"Hey? Do either of you know how to read dragon language?" Yarlasa walked up to the wall, "I know a little. "She traced her hand over the carvings, "Fus. Force, the first part of the Thu'um that that draugr used."

Nicholi pulled out some MRE rations, "anyone want some?" Mari and Yarlasa sat down on the coffin, Nicholi handed them each a ration packet. "You pull the tab on the bottom to heat it up." He demonstrated, "I think these are spaghetti."

"What's spaghetti?"

"Noodles with tomato and meat sauce."

"Sounds good," Mari pulled his tab, Yarlasa did the same, Nicholi handed them each a fork.

"Eat up." He said.

Yarlasa popped a forkful in her mouth, she spat it out instantly, "That's disgusting! How do you eat this crap?"

"With gusto." Nicholi took the entire packet and gulped it down in one bite. "See? Nothin' to it."

Mari tried it and spit it out as well. "That's worse than the shit they feed us in the legion!" He shuddered, "how often do you eat this slop?"

"You lose your sense of taste when you have to live on those for months on end." He gagged, "you never get over the gag reflex though."

The coffin underneath them jerked, the draugr inside snarled and growled as it pushed against the coffin lid. Sighing, Mari stood up and jammed his sword through the coffin lid several times, "they can never just leave us alone." He opened up the coffin, and decapitated the draugr. "It had a nice sword on it at least, frost enchant."

"Look at that tablet, that's dragon language," she picked up the carved wedge of stone,"

HET NOK UN MAHLaaN DROGGE ERei SULeyK SE ALDUIN VOKRii!

Here lie our Fallen lords (the) Roaring power of ALDUIN revives!"she translated, "The college will want to see this, dragon cult artifacts in this condition are rather rare"

"I suppose we should look for an exit," Mari motioned to a small passage behind the word wall, "I'll check down there, you two look around in the main cavern." Mari jogged down the cavern until he came to a wall blocking off the tunnel, on the ground there was a rusted chain, "shit." He muttered, "shit, shit, shit, shit!" He sprinted back into the main chamber, "Nicholi! You wouldn't happen to have another stick of C4 on you, would you?"

"No, I used it all," he turned around from studying the word wall, "why do you ask?"

"Because I found the exit, but there's a slab of stone in the way."

"Shit." Nicholi zipped open his pack and rummaged through it until he pulled out a small sphere.

"Isnt that what you used to blow that spider up?" Yarlasa looked over his shoulder, "what is it?"

"No, that was a frag grenade, this is an anti armor concussion grenade."

"What's the difference?"

"Fragmentation grenades blow shards of red hot metal in all directions, a concussion grenade uses a pressure wave to blow apart armored vehicles and kill the people inside." He pulled the pin and pitched the grenade down the tunnel, "head in the stream! Now!"

All three of them dove down to the stream and suck their heads underwater. _**Boom!**_ Even through the water, the sound of the explosion was painfully loud, the sound echoed through the cave. Mari pulled his head out from under the water and began saying to say something, but the sound was still echoing around the cave, Yarlasa yelled something back. Mari shrugged and ran down the tunnel, nothing, a small burn mark on the wall, but no damage to the stone slab blocking the exit.

"Th- d-n't - SHIT!" He yelled, "wha- in oblivi- are we s-posed to -?"

Nicholi's ears were still ringing, but he yelled back, "how the fuck should I know?"

Yarlasa motioned to the air shaft in the ceiling, "what about that?"

"The ceiling is twenty meters above us." Mari argued, "we would be better off trying to blast our way through the stone slab with spells."

Nicholi pulled out his knife and began to pace around the room. "Do we have a map of Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"I found a map of it, but it's really old, I think it's from when this was an ancient Nordic city, not when it became a tomb."

"It'll do" Mari pulled it out of his own pack and handed it to Nicholi. Nicholi rolled it out onto the floor, he pulled out his own map of Skyrim. He stabbed his knife into the dirt next to the maps and began marking the maps with a pencil.

"What's with the knife?"

"It has a compass in the hilt, I'm trying to figure out where we are in relation to the water table divide of the mountain."

"Why?" Yarlasa frowned, "How will that even help?"

"Because, it's the difference between ending up in Whiterun or ending up in Riverwood."

Mari figured out what Nicholi was thinking, "No! That plan is insane! We'll all drown!"

"Would you rather live in a cave for the rest of your life?" Nicholi began disassembling his pistols, he pulled out a bag of a strange clear material and began placing the gun parts in the bag, "give me anything you want to stay dry." He disassembled his DMR, starting by removing the clip and opening the breech, the stock came off next, followed by screwing off the barrel.

"How come that thing can be taken apart?"

"It's a paratrooper DMR, it's designed to." Nicholi sealed the breach section and the clips in the another bag and started on his M416, "do you guys have a way to breath underwater?"

"I have a water breathing spell." Yarlasa pulled off her leather armor and tossed it aside, "water ruins leather, plus it's harder to swim in. "She tugged on a belted tunic. "You should do the same Mari."

Nicholi tossed Mari a breath rebreather. "That will give you about twenty minutes of air." He walked over to the hole where the stream flowed down into the ground, "count to thirty then jump in after me Yarlasa, Mari you do the same after her."

They nodded, Nicholi hugged his pack to his chest, now bulging with his weapons, and jumped into the hole. The icy water roared in his ears, he could feel himself being jerked around in the currents, losing his sense of direction. After a few moments of swirling around endlessly, he shot into a still area, unlike the black, icy water, this was light. He began to swim towards the surface, his lungs beginning to burn from recycling the same breath of air for so long. He broke the surface and took in a lungful of fresh crisp night air, behind him he heard Yarlasa and Mari do the same. He scanned for the shoreline.

"Mari! Where are we?"

"Whiterun, I think."

The pool they surfaced in was rather smallish, about three meters deep in the middle and ten meters across. A mudcrab on the shoreline chattered at them and snapped its pincers. Nicholi sloshed out of the water, the mudcrab snapped at his legs and a combat boot crushed it.

"OH FUCK!" The mudcrab screamed.

"I should've mentioned that," Mari grinned, "some of them swear like a drunken nord when you smash 'em."

"Why the hell not..." Nicholi muttered under his breath, "nothing else makes sense."

They didn't say much on the way up to the lower gate, but they saw the tents and fire of a khajiit caravan up ahead.

"Ri'saad? Hello?" Mari called out, "it's me, Mari."

A khajiit sauntered out of the main tent, he was dressed in fine clothing, "hello there, how are you Mari?" He and Mari embraced for a second, "and who are your friends here?"

"I'm fine uncle Ri'saad, this is Nicholi, and this is Yarlasa. We have news of a dragon, it destroyed Helgen."

"Then they shall tell the Jarl, and you my nephew, you shall share your story with your uncle, no?" Ri'saad laughed, "how is your sister, little Ma'isha, and the legion?"

Mari sighed, "we need to talk..." He motioned for Nicholi and Yarlasa to move on. As the two walked away Nicholi could see Ri'saad's shoulders slump, then he simply hung his head and went back into the tent.

Up ahead there was a guard standing in the torchlight, he was dressing in some sort of uniform, a bronze scale chestpiece, yellow tunic, and a full helm. Nicholi couldn't see his face, but he was pretty sure he was surprised by the odd pair approaching the gate. A nord woman in men's work clothing and a strange man in mottled fatigues, both soaking wet, approaching the gate of a city in the middle of the night.

"No one is allowed inside the city, not with the recent dragon attacks." The guard called out. "No exceptions."

"Riverwood's in danger! Please!" Yarlasa begged.

"No exceptions, the city is on lockdown."

Nicholi stepped up and grabbed him by the scale armor, his enhanced muscles crushed the bronze like foil. "Listen to me. There is a dragon who just killed every single person in Helgen, that dragon could destroy Riverwood next, it could destroy Whiterun next. I don't know, but what I do know is the jarl needs to know about this. Now." He let go of the crumpled armor, "is that understood?"

The guard nodded, "Let's go see Jarl Balgruuf."

To say the least, the jarl was not happy about being woken up at 11 at night, he was even less happy to hear what happened at Helgen, but he seemed to soften a little when he heard Alvor of Riverwood had sent Nicholi and Yarlasa to ask for guards to be sent. After several minutes of debate with his steward, Proventus Avenicci, housecarl Irileth, and court Mage Farengar Secret-Fire , they had decided to send troops to Riverwood. Farengar wanted to try and create a magical defense and Yarlasa offered to help.

Jarl Balgruuf looked at him, "how long ago did you leave Riverwood?"

"Fifty two hours ago sir."

"The walk to Riverwood is almost a four days, how did you get here so fast?"

"The three of us went through Bleak Falls Barrow and took a detour through an underground river."

"Three?"

"Mari said he didn't want to come inside the city"

"Well you two are welcome to stay in Dragonsreach for the night." Balgruuf smiled, "where are you three off to next?"

"Winterhold." Yarlasa said, "I'm a scholar there and Mari wants to join."

"I'm gonna go check on Mari." Nicholi turned and started out, " it was a honor to meet you jarl."

Nicholi heard Mari long before he reached the gate, "I need to speak with the jarl. Both my friends are in Dragonsreach."

"Right... I'm supposed to believe that from you, khajiit."

"Just let me in, I'm not a liar." Mari was getting angry.

"So I'm going to let in a liar and a thief? I don't think so." The nord guard laughed, "you know the rules rug, no khajiits or argonians in the walls."

"I'm not a rug, a thief, or a liar," Mari said, "I am a legionnaire with information for the jarl of Whiterun."

I'm gonna put you in the dungeons if you don't shut up and go away." The nord's hand strayed down to his weapon, a fine steel mace, "now leave."

"Hold it, hold it, hold it," Nicholi intervened before the guard could draw, "he's with me, we were going to stay at the local inn."

"Alright, but if I get a report from the Bannered Mare about stolen property, I'm gonna arrest both of you." The guard stepped aside for Mari to pass, "is that clear khajiit?"

"It's Mari, not 'khajiit'."

The Bannered Mare turned out to be the local hotspot, several warriors were enjoying ale and mead by the fire, some of the local merchants were discussing business over dinner. A few heads turned at the arrival of a khajiit inside the city walls, but no one said anything.

"Hey Mari?" One of the merchants, a young woman, came over to greet him, "where have you been? I didn't see you with Ri'saad's caravan."

"Hello Ysolda, how are you doing." He smiled and shook her hand.

"Never been better, I'm running the store across the square now."

"Really?" Genuine surprise in his voice, "old Belethor finally broke down and sold it to you?"

She grinned, "nope, even better. He got caught participating in a human trafficking ring and got arrested."

"I guess he wasn't kidding when he said he'd buy one of your relatives." He mused. The rest of the night went by fairly quickly, Mari chatted with the merchants for a little while, then the two of them shared a small meal, which was all they could afford, and swapped war stories with some of the other warriors. Around one in the morning, the drunks began passing out and the other people wandered home.

Nicholi let Mari have the bed in the room they rented, claiming, "those are the comfiest damn planks I've ever seen" before falling asleep. The next morning Nicholi found Mari at the local forge, Warmaiden, talking with the two blacksmiths and demonstrating something.

As he got closer he could see Mari was fashioning a bow of some sort, "the key to eleven smithing is to keep the moonstone as hot as possible 'till the last possible moment, since moonstone is rather soft that isn't too difficult."

The woman there nodded,"what style is that, it doesn't look like any elven bow I've ever seen?"

It's using moonstone, but it's an Elsweyr style bow." Mari tapped out another flaw and dunked the bow in the bath next to the forge. "Now all that's left is sanding, polishing, and stringing the bow."

"So do you know any other smithing secrets?" The bearded nord and the woman laughed, "or are we up to par with the master?"

"I know my glass smithing," he grinned, "and if you had a Daedra hearts I could make some daedric equipment."

"No kidding?" The nord was rather shocked, "you should be up there with Grey-Mane at the skyforge, not down here with us."

"What does he know that you don't?"

Eorlund Grey-Mane knows the techniques of the ancient Nordic heros, and skyforge steel is unrivaled."

Nicholi interjected, "have you tried making carbon steel?"

"No, what's that?" The woman asked.

"Never heard of it." The nord grunted.

"You fold layers of carbon, from charcoal usually, into the the steel, the key is never to let the steel melt into a liquid, but continually fold the metal for about 72 hours." Nicholi went on to explain the steel and metal working techniques from his own world. Mari, Nicholi, Ulfberth War-Bear, and Adrianne Avenicci continued to discuss smithing and current events in Skyrim until a roar pierced the air. Irileth, Jarl Balgruuf's, housecarl and Yarlasa were coming to the gate with a contingent of guards, they were shouting for everyone to go inside their houses, and that the city was under lockdown until further notice.

"Do you know where the dragon is?" Mari yelled, "I can't see it!"

Nicholi calmly scanned the skyline with his scoped DMR. "Found him, west, attacking a watch tower."

Irileth motioned for everyone to follow, "today men, we kill the first dragon to return to skyrim."

The twelve guards, Irileth, Yarlasa, Mari, and Nicholi sprinted down to the the path to the western watchtower. Irileth fumbled with orders and Nicholi took over, years of military training and discipline kicking in.

"Irileth, Yarlasa!" He barked "ice it's wings, we need to ground it!" He turned to Mari and the guards, "spread out, aim for the eyes, the belly, and the base of its wings, those are the least armored parts. The minute that thing's grounded, go in with melee, hack it down."

"And what are you going to do?" Irileth grimaced, "you aren't icing it's wings or shooting its eyes, so how are you gonna help?"

I'm going to the top of the watchtower, gonna try and put a bullet in its neck, sever the brain stem."

The dragon soared overhead "Zu'u los Mirmulnir! Faas dii bah!" (I am Mirmulnir! Fear my wrath!) "_YOL TOOR SHUL!_"

The ball of fire slammed into the ground in between Irileth and several of the guards, the rest of the guards and Mari launched a volley at one of the wings, Irileth vaulted up and launched spikes of ice, Yarlasa joined in with a spray of icy air. Nicholi ran into the watchtower and swore, the inside of the tower was a raging inferno, the wooden stairs, floors, and furniture were ablaze in a heap. He turned and began scaling the outside of the tower. The dragon continued to spew flames, swooping down, it picked up a guard and tore him in half. Yarlasa and Irileth continued to ice the wings, Mari and the guards launched volley after volley into the wings. The ice on the wings began to take its toll on Mirmulnir, his passes became slower and lower, until finally Mari launched an elven arrow into the beast shoulder. The arrowhead entered the joint when the wing was fully raised, and lodged inside the ball and socket joint. The wing came down and snapped off the arrow head inside the joint. The arrowhead scraped through the cartilage holding the joint together and the wing collapsed. Mirmulnir roared in pain, the guards charged, savage claws flashed out, a burst of flame rippled across them. Nicholi saw his chance, he pulled out his M416 and sprinted off the roof of the tower, he landed square on the dragon's back and emptied the thirty round magazine into the beast. Dragon scales were tough armor, they were fireproof, resistant to magic, and could resist most blunt and cutting weapons to a certain degree, what they didn't do was stop the tungsten jacketed 5.56 NATO rounds at point blank range. The tungsten jacketed rounds became standard issue in 2023 in the United States armed forces as an alternative to copper jacketed rounds, they tore through the scales like butter, ripped into the flesh and ruptured organs. Mirmulnir wailed in pain and snapped around to stare into Nicholi's face, his left hand closed around a concussion grenade. This didn't go by the dragon un-noticed, Mirmulnir snapped out, savage teeth closed around Nicholi's arm, tearing flesh and muscle, Mirmulnir shook Nicholi like a doll and tossed him aside.

"Hey lizard breath!" Mari yelled, he launched an arrow into the dragon's neck, "come get some!"

Mirmulnir turned and roared at Mari, " hi krif krilotgaar joor, nuz ko naaf!"(you fight valiantly mortal, but in vain!).

Behind him, Nicholi staggered to his feet, "hey dumbass," Nicholi held up the pin to the grenade in his bloodied hand. "you gotta try harder than that to kill me." Mirmulnir had a dim recognition that he had made a mistake. Brain matter, teeth, and skull fragments flew in all directions from Mirmulnir's neck as his head exploded.

Nicholi slumped to the ground, blood from his arm pooling below him. He looked over at Mari, Yarlasa, and Irileth, "so dragons are real," he laughed weakly, "and intelligent. That was a different dragon than the one at Helgen, right?"

"Different!" Irileth snapped, "there's more than one dragon?"

Nicholi took a shaky breath in, "could be the two of them, could be a few hundred, no way to know."

"Nicholi, hold still, I'm going to fix up your arm." Mari knelt next to him.

"I'm fine, others are wounded to," Nicholi felt the blackness of death creeping into the corners of his eyes.

"Stay with me Nicholi!" Mari slapped his cheek, "don't fall asleep! Look at me dammit."

Behind them the dragon's flesh began to burn away into a swirl of orange and golden light, gasps of shock came from the guards. Nicholi let the darkness wash over him.


	4. Chapter 4: Whiterun

Chapter four: Whiterun

_Four months ago_

Nicholi took a deep breath and knocked on the apartment door. Sure enough, the familiar face answered, almond eyes, shoulder length black hair, delicate eastern futures. "Sara Chen?"

"Yes?"

"I believe I owe you a drink. Two months ago you saved an American Special Operations trooper in Afghanistan from certain death."

"No way?" She smiled, "Nicholi?" He nodded, "well don't stand out there in the cold, it's Vancouver in the middle of winter for christ's sake! Come on in."

Nicholi followed her into the apartment, a small entry way, kitchenette and living room combo, and a hall that led to what was probably a bedroom. There was a small display case on one side of the room, inside her fatigues were neatly folded, several decorations were in a small felt lined box, a Browning high power 9mm pistol was next to a Sniper rifle marksman ribbon.

"So what brings you here?" She turned on the stove under a kettle.

"Military leave," Nicholi sat down on the couch across the room, "the war there is slowing down again, so until I'm needed, I have indefinite leave."

"That war's been going on since 2001, off and on. it's been 30 years of pointless conflict." She sighed, "and what are we? Grunts sent to die in some foreign country?"

"That's what it feels like some days, but others you're jumping out of a B2 Spirit at 50,000 feet in an impact suit." He grinned, "that's how I got to that compound, you got it easy. Just a chopper ride and a walk in the mountains."

"What is it you do exactly? You're obviously not regular special forces."

"I'm technically a CIA operative, but I server under direct command from the pentagon."

"Pentagon huh?" She walked over to the stove and poured a cup of tea, "want one?" He nodded, "what unit are you in?"

"FWP Spec. Ops. commando battalion Alpha-3." He pulled out his official rank badge, "I'm a chief warrant officer 5."

"FWP?"

"Future warriors program, and no I'm not allowed to say what it is exactly."

She laughed, and in unison they said, "I'm afraid that's classified."

"And you?"

"CSOR, Canadian Special Operations Regiment." She motioned to several of the decorations, "I'm a sniper in my platoon. A well accomplished sniper."

"What rifle do you use?"

"The C14 Timberwolf."

"I prefer the Barrett M82 when doing long range work, but the Timberwolf is a good rifle." Nicholi frowned, "I've never really been able to do sniper work, it's to..." He trailed off.

"I get it, snipping takes a lot of getting used to." She set down her cup, "now about that drink?"

Nicholi stared at the beer in front of him, "I'm officially drunk, I have never been drunk before." He tried unsuccessfully to blink the blurring from his eyes.

"You are really drunk," Sara slurred, "your blinks are out of sync... How many of those had you have?"

"You as me drunk as me..." He frowned in concentration, "you. You are just drunk me as? No! You drunk me just are!"

"No nonononono." She shook her head, "it's drunk just are me you, not has drunk blink?" She frowned in confusion too, "I drun... No, you drink? Drank? You are just as me drunk!"

Nicholi shrugged, Sara giggled and hiccuped, "excuse you little miss... I are not half drank as you."

Sara started to say something but a piercing beep burned through his mind, he felt like he was punched in the ribcage, his eyes snapped open and Mari was standing over him, defibrillators from his medkit in hand. He reached up and grabbed Mari's arm before he could zap him again.

"Stop Mari, stop." He gasped, his heart was racing, "don't defib me again. It might make my heart stop again."

Mari set down the paddles, "gods above, it worked, it actually worked."

'how?"

"I followed the picture instructions."

Nicholi looked around, he hadn't been out for more than a few seconds, the dragonflesh was still burning away, the energy flowed from the skeleton, through the air, and right into Yarlasa, who promptly collapsed onto the ground screaming.

"_Gaav tir do dii klov! Gaav tir do dii klov!_ (get out of my head! Get out of my head!)" Yarlasa screamed.

"What's going on!" Ignoring the pain in his chest, Nicholi dragged himself to his feet and over to Yarlasa. "Mari, medkit!" Mari tossed him the pouch with the distinctive red cross and white border, he pulled out a tactical light from his pack and shined it in her eye. Dilated, glassy and full of fear, but alive. "What is it? That light caused it! So what is it?" He glared at the guards, "I don't know about diseases in this land! What's wrong with her!"

"She is dragonborn," one of the guards said shakily, "she absorbed the dragon's soul."

Mari looked at the Mage quivering and whimpering on the ground, hands clasped to her ears like there were noises that wouldn't stop. "The soul is trying to take control of her, she is fighting another battle in her mind against Mirmulnir." He grabbed a leather cord and bound her hands. "If the dragon wins, we don't know what will happen."

Nicholi picked her up and held her in a bundle, "do you have healers in town?" Irileth nodded, "we need to get her there, and fast." He turned and began running to the gate, Mari sprinted after him.

In his arms, Yarlasa began to struggle, " Put me down you big oaf. I'm fine! I'm fine!" She wriggled out of his arms and flopped onto the ground.

Nicholi pulled his pistol out and pointed it at her. "Are you Yarlasa or Mirmulnir?"

"Yarlasa, Mirmulnir is suppressed." She stood up, the pistol tracked her, "I'm Yarlasa, Mirmulnir is not in control."

Nicholi holstered the pistol, "what exactly happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She walked up to the gate, "you two need to tell the jarl what happened, I need to talk to Farengar about how to repel future dragons."

"But what is dragonborn?" Nicholi locked eyes with her, "you have to -"

Yarlasa cut him off, "I don't need to tell you anything, I don't want to talk about it." She turned and stormed off.

"Whatever it was, it was clearly traumatic." Nicholi scratched his head, "from the way she's reacted to combat situations, I'd say she's never been in a real fight before now."

Mari nodded, "how long do you think she'll be like this?"

"Hard to say, she obviously is shell shocked, but she hasn't shown the signs of serious trauma, if she did she wouldn't be sleeping or eating, there would be a severe loss of attention span, and she would be even crankier than usual." He sighed, "as far as recovery time goes, if we keep up the current amount of combat, she may never recover, so I think we just need to either stay here in Whiterun, or go to Winterhold immediately. She just needs to calm down and get back into a regular pattern."

"I say we try for Winterhold, get there so she can get on with her life, I can learn about conjuration, and you can find a way home."

A clap of thunder shook them to the ground, "Dovahkiin!"

"I don't even want to know," Nicholi shouldered the DMR, "we need to report to Jarl Balgruuf."

The guards we not happy about letting a khajiit into the keep, they were even less thrilled when Nicholi refused to give up his weapons. After several minutes of charged debate, Irileth showed up and put an end to the argument.

"The jarl has been waiting for you for the last twenty minutes, so tell me what in oblivion is going on." Irileth glared at them.

"He," Mari gestured to the guard, "won't let us in."

"I won't let them in," he growled, "because that is a khajiit, and he is armed to the teeth."

"I have a name you know..." Mari sighed.

"Just let them in!" Irileth groaned.

"I'll let him in, but the rug stays out."

Mari turned and left, muttering over and over, "godsdamn, racist, idiot, asshole nords."

Yarlasa was waiting inside, so was Jarl Balgruuf, Farengar Secret-Fire, and Proventus Avenicci. "Alright, now that you're here," Balgruuf sat down on his throne, "tell me your version of the events."

"There wasn't that much to it, there was a dragon, Mari grounded it, and we killed it."

"Where is Mari?"

"They wouldn't let him in Dragonsreach sir. He is a khajiit."

Balgruuf frowned, "he is still outside?"

"Yessir."

"So go get him." A guard ran outside, a few moments later he came back with Mari, "Now you two tell me what happened, from the beginning."

Mari spoke first, "Nicholi took charge, he ordered the guards and I to aim for the wings, shoulders, and eyes. He had Yarlasa and Irileth ice the wings while he scaled the tower, I hit it in the shoulder and grounded the beast."

"I jumped down on top of Mirmulnir and fired a full clip into him," Nicholi held up his arm, fully healed and unscarred, "I was going to throw a grenade, but he bit my arm as I pulled the pin. Mari healed my arm and revived me with my defibrillators."

Mari grinned, "not before you blew the dragon's head off."

"So Mari brought the dragon down?"

Mari nodded, "yup."

"And Nicholi killed the dragon?"

"Yes."

"Then who is the dragonborn?" Balgruuf asked.

"Yarlasa." Nicholi said instantly.

"Yarlasa." Mari pointed to Yarlasa.

"Assholes," Yarlasa muttered.

"You are dragonborn?"

"What is a dragonborn?" Nicholi sighed, "I can't be the only one with that question, can I?"

"How long have you been in skyrim?"

"Ten days? Maybe eleven?"

Mari laughed, "even I know what the legends of the dragonborn are, the nords tell tales of warriors who could absorb the souls of dragons, and who could shout with the dragon's voices, the Thu'um. The last known dragonborn was of Septim line of emperors. He died to end the oblivion crisis."

"Today many still worship the first emperor, Tiber Septim, or Talos as a god," Balgruuf continued.

"And the Thalmor started a war to end the worship of someone who they think is only a man." Nicholi nodded, "in my world, we have had many wars and atrocities over religion, this seems no different. A foreign power takes away the religion of a nation, so many of the people join a rebellion."

"Where are you from exactly?" Proventus spoke up. "Your clothing, your weapons, your accent. How exactly did you get here?"

"That is a long conversation. Let just say for now, I'm from a place where magic is replaced by technology."

Balgruuf grinned, "we'll just have to have that conversation over dinner then, Nicholi Dragonslayer, Thane of Whiterun."

Nicholi laughed, "Why me? Why not Mari or Yarlasa?"

Mari slapped him on the back, "You, my friend, slayed the dragon."

"it killed me, you had to restart my heartbeat. You brought that beast down, not me. You should be thane, not me."

"I am a khajiit, if Jarl Balgruuf appointed me, there would be a riot."

Balgruuf grunted in agreement, "I can't grant you thaneship, you're right about that, but consider yourself an honored guest in Dragonsreach."

"Thank you my lord."

"When are you going to make the trip to Ivarstead and High Hrothgar Yarlasa? I made the pilgrimage when I was a boy, before the Great War."

Yarlasa sighed, "I'll make the pilgrimage after I get to the College of Winterhold, I have a bit of work to do there, and then I will go. I just wish it had been someone else, I'm no warrior as you can see."

"I'll go with you," Mari volunteered, "I want to learn at the college anyways. We can leave in the morning, I need to get us new armor and rations first." He grinned at Nicholi, "something other than those gods awful MREs." He bowed slightly to Jarl Balgruuf and left.

"I better go too." Yarlasa sauntered out after him.

Balgruuf motioned to the table that servants had began to fill with food for a afternoon meal, "shall we?" Nicholi sat down at one of the chairs, several children filed in, followed by Irileth, Farengar, Proventus, and several other men and women. The servants sat at the table last, but they still ate with the jarl and his court. Nicholi told everyone where he was from, how he got to Skyrim, and what he did when he was in his world. Others spoke of the civil war, the Stormcloaks, Empire, the aldmeri Dominion and the Thalmor.

"Where does Whiterun stand on this civil war?" Nicholi finally asked.

"On Whiterun's side. We have our allegiance with the Empire, but we do not garrison legionaries here, we stay as close to neutral as possible."

"And what are my responsibilities as a Thane of Whiterun?"

"You are an adviser to me, but the title also holds a lot of power, you may purchase property, and you are assigned a housecarl."

"A housecarl?"

"A warrior sworn to your service, they protect your life, property, and honor." Balgruuf scratched his beard, "you certainly have a lot to learn about Skyrim friend."

"Indeed I do. Now about purchasing a house..." Nicholi opened up his pack pulled out all his valuables, 192 gold coins, two rings, and a gold necklace, "do you accept credit?"

Nicholi pushed the key to his new house into the lock, the heavy door to breezehome swung open. the inside of the home was almost bare, dust covered crates were stacked against the wall. He stepped through the doorway, his new housecarl, Lydia, walked in behind him. Lydia was a young nord warrior, about twenty-two to his own twenty-nine, a small stocky frame, dark hair, and an attitude so big it could've collapsed dragonsreach.

"Let's go get the rest of your things Lydia." He set down his pack, rolled out his sleeping bag, and unloaded all his weapons.

"You need not burden yourself my thane." She set down her own bags, "I can carry my own burdens."

"I'm helping you, you don't have a choice." Lydia frowned, "I am your thane after all." Lydia raised an eyebrow, Nicholi tried to hold his poker face, but failed, cracking a grin.

"I guess I can't fight you. The rest of my belongings are in Dragonsreach."

An hour later, Lydia and Nicholi had moved everything out of Dragonsreach and both were working on opening the crates in breezehome when Yarlasa opened the door, Lydia's hand went to the hilt of her sword, Nicholi dove behind one of the crates and popped up with his pistol in hand.

"Whoa! Didn't mean to scare you two." She raised her hands above her head.

"Sorry, automatic response!" Nicholi called, he holstered the pistol, "my bad."

"Let's go find Mari and get something to eat." She smiled at Lydia, "hello there, I don't believe we've properly met."

"It is a honor to meet you dragonborn."

"I'm but a simple scholar at the College of Winterhold." Yarlasa gave a bitter laugh, "I suppose now I am dragonborn as well, the famed axe wielding nord hero, no matter how much I wish I wasn't."

"I know how it is to be someone you don't want to be," Lydia sighed, "my father, he wanted me to be a merchant, but a warrior's life is my calling."

"I never wanted to be a soldier, but sometimes we don't have a choice." Nicholi absentmindedly took apart his pistol and began cleaning it, "sometimes duty calls, sometime fate decrees, but whatever happens, we must do it to the best of our abilities."

Yarlasa simply shrugged, "fate is a sick bastard."

"Indeed." Nicholi chuckled, "duty can be an asshole too."

The three of them burst out laughing, "let's go get Mari and find a good meal."

Mari was by the gate in an earnest conversation with a man in complicated leather armor. buckles, pouches, belts, and bandoliers covered the tanned leather. Mari seemed agitated, his ears were flat, his lips curled in the faintest of a snarl. Finally Mari's expression softened when the man handed him a small cloth wrapped bundle. The other man turned and left through the gate. Mari saw the three of them watching and walked over to them.

"What was that about?" Nicholi asked.

"Change of plans, I'm going to Riften."

"You have ties with the Guild?" Yarlasa asked.

"My parents were both in the Thieves Guild." Mari glanced at Lydia, "who is she?"

"I'm Lydia, housecarl to Nicholi Dragonslayer."

"Nice to meet you," he looked at Nicholi and Yarlasa, "can we go somewhere private?"

Nicholi opened the door to breezehome, everyone filed in and sat around some of the crates Nicholi had shifted into a temporary table. "How'd your parents end up on the Thieves Guild?" Lydia asked.

"My father was a member of the Skyrim branch, he grew up in Riften, learned his trade there, joined up around the same time as the former Guildmaster, Gallus. They were good friends, did tons of jobs together. My mother was from the Elsweyr branch, she met my father when a job brought her to Skyrim, after it was finished, she decided to stay. They opened up a shop in Falkreath with the local blacksmith, Lod. My father was a master enchanter, my mother found work in the local apothecary, she always was a chemist at heart. They still worked for the Guild, did odd jobs for them, fenced goods, but my father refused to steal from the people of Falkreath, he stuck to his code of honor, told it to my sister and I every day. Ma'isha and I grew up in Falkreath, I learned smithing from Lod, enchanting and swordplay from my father, and archery from my mother." He pulled out the parcel he had received, unwrapping it, he drew out a green malachite dagger, "this is Fang, the dagger my mother wanted me to take into the legion. It was a gift to her from my father. I told her to keep it when I left."

Lydia picked up on what this meant first, "I'm so sorry."

"Ma'isha is dead, mother is dead, and father is missing, I need to find my family before I go to the college. I'm sorry Yarlasa, I can't go all the way up north to Winterhold with you."

Lydia spoke, "how were you planning to go?"

"North through Dawnstar, then along the coast to the college." Yarlasa replied.

"You could go east to Windhelm, then Mari could go south and we could go north."

Nicholi pulled out a map, "it could work, we would be able to stay together longer, maybe I could go down to Riften with Mari and -"

"No!"

"I'm sworn to follow you, not your friends, my thane."

"And I'm going alone from Eastmarch." Mari said, seeing the others expressions, "I'll be fine."

"If Mari is going alone, I can too." Yarlasa glanced at Nicholi and Lydia, "there's no point in you two going all the way to Winterhold if it turns out the college doesn't have the answers you need. I have friends in Windhelm, so I can get a Stormcloak escort to Winterhold. I'll do some research on dimensional travel, ask around about it. When I find out something useful, you'll get a letter from me."

Nicholi exchanged glances with Mari and Lydia, "that sounds fine to me, I need to head out to the cave where all my weapons are stashed and bring them back here."

Mari looked at Yarlasa, "We leave at first light."


End file.
